I can still taste them bitter tiers of melting darkness a hand-picked assortment of affection for a pauper’s gratitude, one Valentine’s when frost was on the ground the con in confectionary escaped notice your gift pure affectation, beggarly double layered with innuendo smutty smooth-talking…

What have saints to do with lovers theirs the agony of agape and martyrs* Valentine, the poet says, is strictly for the birds** this day next season presses hard such urgency and sweet mustering of mate forever – or a fleet polygamous state Rosie in red dress scents affection loiters longer than the core condition written in chambers of prenup passion two lobes and vermilion pigment percussive organ instrument…